Differential
by The Blue Raven
Summary: Magnus investigates why Henry’s transformation are accompanied by a fever and coughing. She was NOT expecting the answer she got. Magnus/Henry family


**Differential **

**Summary: **Magnus investigates why Henry's transformation are accompanied by a fever and coughing. She was NOT expecting the answer she got. Magnus/Henry family

**Rating: **G

**Author's Note:** Okay, so this is what happens when a geek who needs to have _everything_ explained in her favorite shows goes "Why the hell would turning into a _werewolf_ give Henry a cough and a fever? How does that makes sense?" Considering Nubbins aired _before_ The Five, I should have figured this one out sooner. Enjoy.

**Differential **

"Reporting as ordered, Boss."

Magnus looked up from the medical records on the screen, smiling and climbing to her feet.

"Hello, Henry. How are you feeling?"

"Ask a silly question, Doc. In the past twenty-four hours, my internal organs have changed their size and shape and _completely_ rearranged themselves inside of me. _**Twice.**_ So you could say I'm a _little_ on the achy side."

She gave him a sympathetic smile and nodded towards the exam-table. Henry obediently stripped to his boxers and hopped up.

"How much longer do you think I'll need these mandatory exams every time I change?"

"It really depends, Henry," she answered apologetically. "I simply don't _have_ much experience with Class Nine Proteans. I think we can safely assume you aren't doing your internal organs significant damage when you transform, but your chemistries remain in flux."

Henry sighed as, on that note, she gathered together everything she needed to do the blood-work he needed. Chem 20, electrolyte panel, CBC of course, liver and kidney function, CRP naturally, cardiac enzymes, lactic acid, sed rate, PT and PTT to be safe, assorted hormones, H&H, autoantibodies. She decided to spare him the pain of an arterial blood-gas study, because the last several had shown _nothing_ of note.

"That's fewer vials than usual, isn't it?" he asked as she swabbed his antecubital.

"I'm comfortable enough to start omitting some of the tests that have been consistently coming back normal: serology, a great deal of the immunology, and the ABG to start."

He brightened. "No more digging around for an artery?"

She gave him a mock-scowl. "I do _not_ dig, Henry."

"I know." He grinned. "Remember that assistant you had when I was a teenager? Man couldn't find a blood-vessel to save his _life_."

"Which is why I did the blood-work on you and Ashley myself whenever possible."

"For which we were _both_ grateful."

She smiled and performed the draw. "You have excellent veins," she remarked as she worked.

"You say that every time, Doc. Doesn't make it hurt any less."

"Cheeky young pup."

He snorted in amusement but quickly turned serious. "This _is_ going to get easier to control, right, Doc?"

She sighed and withdrew the needle, pressing a swab against the puncture-wound with one hand and lifting the other to cradle his cheek.

"Of _course_ it will, Henry." She smiled reassuringly. "You just need more practice. It's only _been_ six times."

"_Seven_," he corrected her, closing his eyes and leaning into her hand. "I don't like it," he whispered. "I don't want to do it anymore. It's scary and it's painful and, when it's over, it takes time for my mind to be human again."

"Hush," she directed, pressing her lips to his forehead. "We'll get you through this, Henry. I just need you to give me time. Now I can increase your dosages if you want, but that's only forestalling the inevitable. This is a part of your life now, Henry."

"I know, Boss."

"Mmm." She nodded and set about taking his vitals. "Unless you want to reconsider the surgery?"

"No." He shook his head, sighing. "I don't want to stop being _me_. I just wish this were easier…"

"I know you do, Henry, and it will get that way with time, I _promise_ you. And, in the meantime, you need to understand that I am _right_ here for you, every step of the way."

He smiled weakly up at her.

"You still have a fever," she sighed, shaking her head. "Quite honestly, I'm at a loss to explain it. Proteans are rare, but I've studied _several_ and have _never_ seen a transformative episode trigger a fever."

"Maybe it's not even related?" Henry suggested. "I _could_ just have a chronic bug. I mean, it's not like I take my own temperature on a regular basis and I _have_ been feeling run down lately."

"The fatigue _could_ be from an infection," she agreed, nodding. "It could also be a simple result of the strain these transformations are putting on your system. You _do_ seem otherwise healthy. "Let me run a differential CBC. If it seems to indicate an infection, I can take a blood-culture, get to the bottom of this that way."

"Okay. Can I put my clothes on again?"

She grabbed a stethoscope. "Just let me listen to your chest first, then you can get dressed while I do the differential."

"Okay," he agreed. He jumped when she placed the stethoscope against his chest. "Jeez, do you _refrigerate_ that thing?"

"One would think you'd be used to it by now."

"I don't get sick like a normal human," he reminded her. "Aside from my yearly physical, I haven't really had a lot of experience with these kinds of situations before."

"Well, there is _that_," she admitted, smiling up at him as she listened. "Well, if you _do_ have an infection, it's not in your lungs."

"Good to know."

She smiled and put down the stethoscope. "Get dressed. I'll just prep a slide for the differential."

"You don't have a _machine_ for that?" he asked. "Got one for everything else."

"A machine can tell me how many white cells are in your bloodstream, but not which _kind_. For diagnostic purposes, a manual count is _far_ more suggestive. It can even help determine not only whether you _have_ an infection, but also whether that infection is viral, bacterial, or parasitic in nature."

"Really? Neat."

She smiled and turned her attention to making and staining a film.

"Now we just need to let it dry," she told him as he finished dressing. She sighed. "I know this is a difficult time for you, Henry. If you _ever_ need to talk…"

"I know, and I appreciate it. I, uh…" He blushed and looked away. "I've been doing therapy sessions with Will since this whole thing started."

"I'm very glad." She smiled warmly in response to his startled look. "I only want what's best for you, Henry. And, in spite of your sessions with Will, the offer to talk stands. If you should ever need a somewhat more maternal ear. Okay?"

He gave her that shy little smile of his that always made her want to reach out and pull him into an embrace. Which she allowed herself to do this time. He tensed reflexively, surprised, but immediately relaxed and put his arms around her, inhaling deeply. Scenting the woman who had raised him.

"There's a good man," she murmured, rubbing his back in slow circles.

"Thank you, Doc. For _everything_ in the past twenty-four years."

"My pleasure," she assured him, feeling warm and loved and genuinely hopeful for Henry's future. Her 'family' may have been odd, but it was still _hers_ and she loved everything about it.

"I wish you could have been my real mother," he whispered.

"Well, I could do worse for a son but, if I were your mother, that would make you related to _Ashley_. Which would make your crush on her a _bit_ of a problem."

He pulled out of the hug, taking several long steps backwards and staring at her with wide eyes, his expression a mesh of surprise, embarrassment, and fear.

"You _know_ about that?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Henry, I may be 157, but my eye-sight's just _fine_, thank you. And it _would_ take a blind woman not to notice the way you sometimes look at her."

The apprehension in his expression was replaced by perplexity. "And it doesn't _bother_ you?"

She frowned. "Why _should_ it? Ashley's a sweet and beautiful young lady and I know _your_ intentions towards her could never be anything but noble. In all honesty, I'm surprised you haven't approached her yourself yet."

"We _**grew up**_ together!" he protested, shaking his head.

"Oh, come now, Henry. I never raised you to be _anything_ resembling siblings. If I was maternal towards you, that has no real bearing on your relationship with Ashley. The Sanctuary is an _inpatient_ treatment facility. It's no different than if the two of you attended the same boarding school as children and no one would consider _that_ an obstacle to a relationship. You should broach the subject with Ashley. I think you'd find your overall anxiety level considerably diminished if you were having routine orgasms."

"_**Jesus H. Christ!**__"_ Henry protested, staring at her with wide eyes and his mouth having open.

Magnus didn't think she'd seen him _that_ embarrassed since she gave him 'The Talk' all those years ago. Well, given his abnormality, it had been a rather more _detailed_ explanation than most young men received, with a great deal of emphasis not only on mechanics and his own instincts, but also the importance of remaining _completely_ in-control at all times during sex unless he was securely tied down. The young boy had looked ready to die of mortification, and Henry's expression now was a spot-on imitation of _that_ one. Which she supposed was her cue to change the subject.

"The slide should be ready now," she told him. "This will only take a few minutes."

"Uh, yeah."

He cleared his throat and looked 'casually' around the room, refusing to even look in her _direction_ as she walked to the microscope. She wasn't entirely sure how a man raised by _her_ developed that many hang-ups over his own sexuality. Ashley was the same way in many respects. Perhaps her absolute openness and honesty with them had backfired?

Too late for her to change anything now, but perhaps Will could be of some use in that regard?

"_Very_ strange," she murmured after a few moments of scanning the slide. She didn't even need to do a full count to see it…

"Problem?" Henry asked, watching her uneasily.

"It may be nothing, but your eosinophil and mast cell counts are _considerably_ elevated. I'd like to run some tests for parasites if you don't mind. You spend enough time out of the country that it's a consideration I can't ignore, even if it _does_ seem rather unlikely in light of your symptoms. I'll need a stool-sample."

The embarrassed look was back, although not to _nearly_ the same degree as before.

She ran an occult blood study as well because, while she had no _reason_ to expect it to come back positive, she _did_ have the sample right in front of her. It, like the rest of the battery, came back negative.

"Well, you almost certainly don't have a parasite of any sort. I _could_ do a full-body scan, but I'm frankly reluctant to expose you to that much radiation on the off-chance when you really have no other symptoms suggestive of a parasite as opposed to any of a dozen _other_ conditions."

"What kind of other conditions?" he asked.

"Perhaps something inflammatory," she mused, considering the possibilities there. "Any joint or muscle pain? Other than that associated directly with the transformations, I mean?"

"Not that I've noticed." He shook his head.

"And I didn't notice any signs of _swelling_ when I looked you over earlier. Hmm… What else could it be? Never a Doctor House around when you need one, is there?"

"Think I'd rather have _you_, Doc. That character is a pill-popping _jerk_ who's allergic to common sense and nearly kills his patient two or three times an ep. _Not_ the kind of person I want making my treatment decisions."

"He _is_ impulsive," she admitted with a shrug. "Still, in the final equation, it's hard to argue with that brand of genius."

She spent a few more minutes considering what else could cause a fever and an elevation in eosinophils, then looked up sharply, staring at Henry with wide eyes. It could _not_ be that simple?

"What?" he asked, shifting uneasily under her scrutiny. "You know what's wrong with me, don't you?"

"I think I have a pretty good idea, yes." She climbed to her feet. "Last test for now. If _this_ one doesn't come out positive, I'm going to have to start consulting with other physicians at other Sanctuaries."

"But if it _is_ positive? Is it serious?"

She smiled reassuringly, retrieving what she needed for the test. "Not _remotely _serious, Henry. And, better still, _quite_ manageable with medication."

"So we're hoping for a positive result, then?" he asked, frowning down at his forearm as she scraped the tiny piece of plastic across the skin there.

"Well, I don't know that we're _hoping_ for a positive, but it would certainly explain everything." In a _very_ twisted way.

"God, what _was_ that?" Henry asked, frowning and reaching for his arm where she'd abraded the skin.

"Don't," she directed, catching his wrist. "Is it painful?"

"_Itchy_." He frowned down at it as a _massive_ raised welt appeared. "What the _hell_?"

"A positive result," she answered, shaking her head. "_Un-bloody-believable…_"

"What? What is it? What does it mean?" he demanded, watching her anxiously.

"You have an allergy, Henry. A simple allergy."

He frowned. "That would explain the _cough_, but what about the _fever_?"

"A considerably less common but not unheard of reaction to the presence of an allergen. An allergic reaction is, after all, an _immune_ reaction at bottom."

"Okay, so that _theoretically_ explains the fever and the cough," he said, shrugging. "But why would they only crop up right around a transformative episode?"

She gave him an apologetic look, grasping his shoulders lightly in both hands as she explained, "Probably because what you're allergic to happens to be… well, dogs, Henry. You're allergic to _dogs_…"

**The End**


End file.
